Spanish Cinema Now. 12.

Last year's Spanish Cinema Now devoted a large chunk of its time (something on the order of 7¼ hours) to a Spanish television series about the country's Civil War, made up mostly of propaganda from both sides of the fence. The program was grueling in more ways than one (that many hours of propaganda, no matter which side you're on, can reduce you to a gibbering idiot). I recalled this TV series, off and on, as I watched what was perhaps the best program in this year's series, a documentary entitled Night Flowers (Flores de luna). In just two hours, with nearly every minute entrancing and vital, filmmaker Juan Vicente Córdoba takes us into the community of El Pozo del Tio Raimundo, often referred to simply as El Pozo and now one of Spain's more famous/infamous areas.

What makes the movie so special is the manner in which its director enfolds us into his story of this little district near Madrid, making it redolent of so much of Spain's history over the past 70 years until it becomes, not simply a microcosm of the country itself, but a kind of representation for neighborhoods worldwide that, over the decades, have risen, fallen and then risen again. Córdoba begins by introducing us to three generations of families that lives in El Pozo: high-school age children, their parents and grandparents. The kids are working, not very happily, on a school project that involves the history of their community. As the older members of the family offer their own two cents - history, reminiscences, opinions - we're off and running.

The director weaves his many interviews around the history of the place and a particular Catholic priest - Jose Maria Llanos - who had been a confidante and "teacher" of Generalissimo Franco, and, after coming to El Pozo to take stock and help out, seems to have been converted to the side of the poor and needy. (I wish more of Spain's priesthood had followed suit - and sooner, too.) At times during the two-hour documentary, it seems as though an entire movie could be devoted to Father Llanos alone. In any case, the movie offers a most interesting history, leading up to the 50th anniversary of the good father's involvement in the community.

The viewer sees El Pozo in its early, no-indoor-plumbing days, and its later stages, as things first improve and then slide into drug use and AIDS, during the 70s and 80s. What a joy it is to see the community flowering again in the 90s and 00s, even though its young people seem much less interested in it, as often happens when people grow lazy during "good times." One of the most interesting sections involves a group meeting between the generations about how best to handle an upcoming celebration. Each group wants what it wants, and getting the youngsters to actively participate takes some doing. Later, we see the results of this, and it's yet another cause for celebration - even if, toward the finale, we note the young generation's lack of commitment to further education coupled with its embrace of what looks to be some possibly dead-end jobs. Still, it ain't over till it's over, and we live in hope for these kids and their parents. (The grandparents' generation seems delighted - deservedly so - with what it has been able to accomplish.) Although shown only once at this years' SCN, and earlier this year's San Sebastian film fest, Córdoba's splendid documentary would seem a natural for Spanish television and might make a good fit for any documentary fest or American cable/public television audience that can handle subtitles.

This 12th dispatch brings to a close my coverage of this year's Spanish Cinema Now series at the Film Society of Lincoln Center. I'm sorry to hear that "david," in a comment after the 11th, finds Spanish cinema not worth a dozen entries. I disagree, and here's why. I have found, after years of attending, first a few, then a few more, then finally all of the films in the FSLC's European festivals (French, Italian and Spanish), that this is the only way in which I can be sure to see the best of each fest. (Yes, I could report only on those films I found to be especially good, but why slight the others just because I wasn't enamored?) Basing my attendance only on the program's description of the film, or on the film's director or cast, offers absolutely no guarantee of making the right choice(s). Nothing short of plunking down in the seat and watching the films in question does the trick.

This year, I would never have guessed that Suso's Tower (from the Javier Cámara retrospective), My Prison Yard, One-Armed Trick and the documentary Night Flowers would be my "don't miss" movies. (I'd already seen Torremolinos 73 and Talk to Her; if you haven't, consider these "don't miss" titles, as well.) Reviewing the better films ASAP might have given a few more people the opportunity to see three of the four films (the documentary, unfortunately, received only a single screening), as well as others I liked less but still found worthwhile. Overall, most of these films were worth a visit.

Three of the four genre films on display (Before the Fall, King of the Hill and Timecrimes) were smart - but fortunately not slick - examples of very dark apocalyptic, chase thriller and sci-fi films. ETA terrorism got two kicks in the head, both worthwhile, though neither proved classic: Everyone's Invited (great title!) and My Father's House. The fragile Spanish family was all over the place - in Pudor, Pretexts, Ashes from the Sky, Railroad Crossing, Hard Times, Fiction and elsewhere. And wonderful Spanish actors kept popping up and up and up - not only in the retrospective devoted to seven of Cámara's movies, but via Raúl Arévalo in Blind Sunflowers and My Prison Yard; Ana Wagener in My Prison Yard and Rated-R; Celso Bugallo in Pudor and Ashes from the Sky; Candela Peña in Rated-R, Torremolinos 73 and My Prison Yard; and Francesc Garrido in One-Armed Trick and Pretexts.

More than anything else, I think, I try to cover these fests because few other critics are doing so and certainly not in any festival's entirety. Acquarello brought her insight and intelligence to several of the Spanish films but beyond this, I saw no coverage from any of the print critics and little from bloggers. The FLSC's French fest gets ample coverage but, again, almost no critics, with the exception of the Times' stalwart Stephen Holden, bother too see all the films. As to the Italian films in Open Roads: again, little to no coverage. I do not buy for a moment that either Spain's or Italy's filmmakers deserve this treatment. The output of any country's movies is always a mixed bag: A few of the choices may stink, but plenty of the films are worthwhile, and some much more than that. The bottom line remains: You can't know which are which until you've seen them.

Posted by dwhudson at December 27, 2008 8:15 AM